Reverie
by SketchyWords
Summary: Patch is really good at sneaking in on people's dream. Paticularly Nora's. Nothing special. One-shot.


**Disclaimer: Becca Fitzpatrick owns any **_**Hush, Hush**_** characters that appear in this story. This fiction is purely from my imagination. Please do not post it elsewhere without my express permission. No copyright infringement intended; only fun.**

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><p><em>Songs that inspired me:<em>

**MASSIVE ATTACK** by _Paradise_ _Circus_  
><strong>FALLING <strong>by _Florence and the_ _Machine_  
><strong>I CAUGHT MYSELF <strong>by_ Paramore _

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><p>"<em>NORA . . .<em>" SHE HEARD BEFORE SHE FELT A LIGHT FEATHERY TOUCH RUN AGAINST HER TENDER SKIN.

What she recognized as lips followed, the soft petals traveling down the length of her face but teasingly ghosting over her own. Like the night chill, he caused a light shiver to shake her, her lips parting involuntarily in invitation.

Her eyelids fluttered, daring a peek up at the stranger. But she found her will was not her own. Her thoughts were heavy—her body sluggish and unresponsive to her command, but folding to her desires.

"Nora," The voice beckoned, his touch now gone.

Without warning, her body followed that whisper until she was suddenly straddling _him_. He was all lean and hard—body chiseled from bronze with abs dedicated to the gym. Hands with the warmth of flames, lightly grazed up and down her thighs while her own hands reached up for his hair. It was the color of coal but it must have been spun from silk.

She recognized this voice, his body, his hands—she'd be damned if she didn't. He was the poster boy for bad boys, her fallen angel.

Without reluctance her body bowed towards his, her small hands clawing up his bare chest. He sucked in a breath as her fingers dug in deep, soft hands piercing through smooth skin. She ducked to get a taste of him, tempting a bite into her rotten fruit. But as she did, he turned them over once more.

His gaze bore into hers as he entwined their hands, his mouth teasing her once more. Her eyes rolled back as he peppered kisses on her jaw—the simplest things he did brought her pleasure.

"Nora," He sung in her ear, but when she opened her eyes, Patch was gone.

She sat up slowly, feeling airy and foreign to the weight of her body. Wearily, she glanced about the empty room she realized was not her own. It was old and decrepit, the walls crumpled and charred like something once lit up in flames. The bed she lay on was worn and burned as well, the wrought iron bed frame, rusted.

She was in the middle of nowhere and sort of like a video game, her world felt limited to just the these four walls around her. All that there was, was a rickety wooden door frame. There stood Patch, naked and with his back to her.

Instinctively, she crept forward, drawn in by the sight of him. But as she reached the foot of the bed, he disappeared, blurring away like a mirage. Still she kept on forward, wandering towards the strange door he had disappeared through.

She found herself down a long, narrow hallway. There was no sign of him, only the soft pad on of her footsteps and the rhythmic sound of a ticking clock. She followed the eerie sound, led only by a dim light of no particular origin.

Instead of growing louder, the sound grew faint the farther down she walked. She briefly wondered if she was going the wrong way but decided she couldn't have been. There was only one way and if she turned back . . . well, there would be no turning back.

What would come if the ticking disappeared all together? What did she expect to find?

Nora soon noticed a whooshing sound that harmonized with the ticking clock. It could have been the swinging of a pendulum slicing through air methodically. But where the ticking fell silent, the ethereal sound grew louder.

It was a strong, canorous dance on air—a reassuring presence—what she soon recognized as wings.

Soon, like a feathered tapestry, wings enveloped her in a ring of white hot light. The darkness she'd been engulfed in was raptured.

†•†•†

Nora gasped, her eyes snapping up to the wooden paneled ceiling above her. She struggled to catch her breath as she re-familiarized herself with her setting. She was in her room and though it was a dream she could still feel the burn of her lover's touch on her damp skin.

It was like a scent impossible to rid yourself of.

And though his phantom presence still lingered on her, she managed to drift back to sleep. . .not noticing the single black feather nestled in her curly brown hair.

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><p><em>DidYaLuvIt?<em> If so leave a review. I'd love to hear what you think. (PS: If you thought it was confusing and/or all over the place, it's kinda supposed to be. I mean, it's a dream after all.)


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